


My First Seder: A Story In Four Parts

by all_my_fandoms (marina)



Category: DCU, Firefly, Generation Kill, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Holiday, Jewish Character, Multi, Passover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-31
Updated: 2010-03-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/pseuds/all_my_fandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what is says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My First Seder: A Story In Four Parts

1\. Bruce Wayne

 

Bruce isn't sure how these things are supposed to go – well, he knows in theory of course, but this is his first practical session – and he's _trying_, really he is, but Clark's not making it easy on him.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to read the next blessing?" Clark says, bright smile still in place, and Bruce is flooded with the familiar urge to punch something.

"Yes, I'm sure," he says, trying not to grit his teeth. "Why don't we let Tim do it."

"Tim?" Clark says, and Tim coughs slightly, as though clearing his throat –Bruce recognizes it as their non-verbal equivalent of 'relax, I got this' – and starts reading off the ornate pages.

"Hey no, wait, isn't that part–" Kon grabs the Hagada out of Tim's hands and starts flipping pages– "supposed to come before this one?"

Tim glares at him. "No."

"Are you sure?" Kon says.

Tim snatches the book back. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying," Kon says, crossing his arms on his chest. "I think I've done this more times than you and I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be at that part right now."

"Kon, maybe we should let--" Clark starts, but Tim interrupts him.

"Please, that interpretation is _so wrong_," Tim says. "And how many Seders have you been to, anyway? One for each year you've been alive only makes it--"

"All right!" Clark says. "I hereby declare it afikoman time!"

"You shouldn't have done that," Bruce says, just as Kon says, "Awesome!"

"You realize that he was in charge of hiding it this year?" Tim says, indicating Bruce.

Bruce smiles for the first time since the evening began.

"Dude, then I'm totally allowed to use my powers." Kon says, jumping out of his chair. "You already have an unfair advantage, you _live_ with him."

Bruce hears Tim murmuring, "I wouldn't call that an advantage," as he and Kon rush out of the dining hall.

"They're never going to find it, are they?" Clark sighs at him, throwing his napkin on the table.

"There is that distinct possibility," Bruce agrees.

"I'm not even going to ask what you're going to give them in exchange for finding it," Clark says, pouring himself another glass of wine.

 

2\. Nate Fick

 

"We really don't have to go to this thing, you know," Brad says just as Nate is about to ring the doorbell.

"I know," Nate says, trying to suppress a smile.

Brad's mom is happy to see them, but his sister – the hostess – is happier. Brad is the unofficial family babysitter – although Nate's learned it's an unspoken understanding, allowing Brad to keep plausible deniability. The kids pounce on Brad as soon as he's in the living room and Nate goes to offer his help in the kitchen. Brad calls it sucking up. Nate calls it good politics.

They are, of course, seated near the kiddy section of the table. Halfway through the meal one of the eight-year-olds gets so excited at one of Brad's stories she spills her grape juice all over him. Nate laughs until Brad volunteers him to read out the next blessing. In Hebrew.

Nate remains undeterred. He summons every smile in his arsenal that can charitably be called charming and stumbles his way through the words. By the end everyone's staring at him, a little speechless.

They refuse to let him help with the clean up.

"You've gotta stop this habit before it takes over your life," Brad says later that night, laying next to him in the guest bedroom. "Randomly impressing people twenty-four-seven isn't going to pay your bills, you know."

"Actually, I _am_ kind of planning on it paying my bills," Nate says.

Brad shakes his head. "See, now I've gotta go and wipe that smug smirk off your face." He sighs, exasperated. "You're always so much _work_." He leans over to lie closer and run his fingers over Nate's naked chest.

"Good thing you're used to working with your hands, then," Nate says, running his fingers through Brad's regulation haircut.

Brad manages to roll his eyes at him before the kiss starts.

 

3\. Sherlock Holmes

 

He's followed her through Paris, Vienna and now Berlin, remaining always at least two steps behind – close enough to keep her within his sight, but not to be spotted. He's not sure what game she's playing but after a few days his surveillance and his sources tell him it's got something to do with the careless and ridiculously attractive heir to an unseemly fortune, belonging to the German aristocracy.

One day he opens his eyes to the sound of her voice saying, "Aren't you tired of spending your days like this?"

He's startled to find himself lying on the floor of his hotel room with no memory of falling asleep the night before. "Don't tell me one of the staff let you in," he says, trying to glare at her while wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I left express orders."

She shrugs and reclines back in her chair. "I don't consider lock picking a form of cheating."

"This isn't a game," he says, arranging his limbs into a sitting position, still blinking blearily.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, of course not." She rises from the chair with her usual elegance and heads for the door. "If you manage to forego an evening with your syringe, you might pick me up at seven." She pushes the door open. "Don't bother wearing a jacket."

He tells himself she couldn't have been sitting there for more than a few seconds.

She emerges from her hotel at seven o'clock on the dot, looking not the least bit surprised to find him waiting for her. He could have tried to follow her from a distance, wherever she was going, but they're past that stage now.

She takes him to a different part of town, considerably more upscale. The house they enter reeks of old money and the location of a quite boisterous party.

"Friedrich!" Irene exclaims when a man obviously a few years her junior greets them as they enter, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Oh, you've grown so much, I can hardly recognize you!" The man kisses her hand and she gives him a brilliant smile. "This is my good friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

"Pleasure to meet you," Friedrich says with a strong German accent, shaking Sherlock's hand.

"So, is this a new pet project?" Sherlock says, once they're done with the initial round of greetings.

Irene takes a sip of wine. "Hardly," she says, somewhat bitterly.

Sherlock takes another look around the room, trying to piece everything together. He runs through his mental file on Irene Adler – known contacts, relatives, background, aliases. It hits him like a boulder to the head. "You're not serious!" he says.

"I'll let my grandmother know she had you stumped for an entire two weeks," she said, wrapping her hand around Sherlock's and guiding him in the direction of the dining room. "She's quite fond of you, you know."

Once they're seated someone passes Sherlock something to cover his head with and the prayers begin. Sherlock uses the time to run through the facts that have so far eluded him. Discovery the fist: Irene Adler is Jewish on her father's side. Discovery the second: Her grandmother has a habit of insisting that Irene meet with her German cousins in order to observe religious rites at least once a year, when Irene is in Europe (nothing less nor more frequent was likely, given Irene's previous traveling patterns). Discovery the third: there is a slight possibility that Irene Adler discusses Sherlock with her grandmother.

"The wine is quite excellent," he says about half an hour into the ceremony. She brings her glass closer, smiling as he pours.

He spends the evening listening, singing, making the other guests laugh at his attempts to pronounce things properly in German, and eating excellent food.

"That wasn't quite the orthodox ordeal, was it?" he says as he and Irene find themselves in a carriage returning to her hotel.

"No, not quite. Friedrich's older brother, Gustav, has some unusual ideas about religion and how it should be practiced. He and a group of friends have been publishing quite a bit about it. It's all dreadfully boring."

Sherlock doesn't believe her for a minute, but allows himself to get distracted by the touch of her gloved fingers creeping up his forearm.

"I can't believe you traveled all this way for a family reunion," he says the next morning, lying in bed as she's getting dressed.

"You don't know my grandmother," she says, putting on her jewelry. "If I didn't come she'd get wind of it eventually."

They part ways that morning – she's headed for Algiers, him back to London. They don't kiss goodbye at the train station – it's always and never goodbye between the two of them.

It isn't until the next day, on a train headed for Paris, that Sherlock spots the morning headline: _German court in uproar; young Duke elopes with mysterious woman in Morocco. _

He snatches the paper out of the man's hand.

 

4\. River Tam

 

It's Zoe's turn to cook meals for the week, except this time everyone pitches in in all kinds of strange ways. River's not sure what's going on, though she spends more time than usual observing.

"Is it like a holiday?" She asks Simon.

"No, River, it's like... well..." he considers for a few moments. "Well, yes. It is kind of like a holiday. I guess."

"What does it celebrate?"

"I'm going to guess some agricultural event, possibly laden over with a more modern meaning. But the truth is I don't know, mei mei, you're going to have to ask Zoe."

"It's just one of Zoe's customs," Kaylee says, as they're hanging out in the engine room. "You know, her people have all kinds. Probably something to do with the harvest or somesuch." Her face lights up with a smile. "All I know is it means lots of good food and singing, and we could always use a night like that around here."

"It's all about victory," Book tells her the next day, as they're having breakfast. "That's what most holidays are about. Victory of someone over something. Can be a real thing – something you can touch – can be something theoretical. But there's always drama," he gives her a small smile and takes another bite of his bread.

"Mal won't talk about it," River tells Inara while both of them are sitting on the made up bed in her shuttle.

Inara snorts. "I'm not surprised." She reaches for a few pins on the bedside table and starts arranging River's hair. "You can borrow one of my dresses for tonight," she says. "The blue silk one. I think you'll look really pretty in that one."

"It ain't about victory," Zoe says, standing over a pot of something that smells delicious while River sets the table. "It's about hope."

River waits for the rest of the explanation but it never comes.

Before the food arrives Zoe declares they're going to play a game. River isn't surprised; Simon told her about this part.

"I ain't playing the simple one again," Jayne says resolutely.

"Well then God knows you're going to have to be the evil one," Mal says. "'Cause you sure as hell can't be the smart one."

"I can be the evil one," Simon suggests.

Kaylee bursts out laughing, "You really can't!"

They manage to agree about who's going to play which brother after a while, but then Mal declares River's going to play the one who doesn't know how to ask and Jayne says, "If she's the one who can't ask then I'm the goddamn champion of book learnin'!" and arguing breaks out again.

By the end of it River actually finds herself laughing. She notices Simon trying not to stare.

That night she sneaks out to keep Mal company in the cockpit (and to keep him from crashing into anything, though she doesn't tell him that).

"You know, little one," he says, and River's pretty sure he's at least a little drunk from all the wine. "This time's the spring. Where she's from. It's when they've got the flowers and the renewal and all manner of birth. They tell other stories, about the whys and the origins, but I know that's what she's really celebrating." He sinks deeper into his seat – the pilot's seat, "We could all use to be spared occasionally. We could all use a rebirth."

River nods. "We could," she says, so quietly Mal doesn't catch it. Ahead of her, the darkness of the stars is vast and welcoming.


End file.
